


Truth be Told

by McRaider



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Idiots in Love, M/M, love all the nicknames for the not-apcolypse, nopocolypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley finally speak.





	Truth be Told

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I can’t seem to get enough of Crowley h/c, so here’s some more. Thanks to my wonderful Beta: Aureia for her wonderful feedback and help.

Truth Will out  
McRaider  
  


_It was never in my plans to let Crowley fall. A parent is not meant to have favorites, but any true parent will tell you, they may have a child they get along with better, find funnier. That was my Crowley, I created him to ask questions, to be different, he was going to be my first angel to experience true love, he was going to experience the fun of humanity and the world I was creating as a whole. And then, Lucifer got involved, they were determined to drag my sweet angel down. Watching him fall was heartbreaking, they were my failures, but I was determined to still afford him a few things, his true love for starters. I had made these two especially for one another. But sometimes my fallen children cause me more trouble than I care to admit. This is the story of how one demon kept falling, until an angel grabbed a hold and pulled him back up._

What had seemed like a completely normal lunch, had at some point mutated, Aziraphale wasn’t sure when, or why, but when they’d come to lunch they’d enjoyed some champagne, now leaving nearly three hours later, there were a solid three bottles of wine on the table, and Aziraphale could only recall drinking part of one of those. Which left Crowley responsible for the other two and a half, he’d been quiet most of the lunch, though that part wasn’t terribly surprising, Crowley was broodier that way. Aziraphale supposed, on some level, Crowley had the right to get plastered, if he had indeed lost his best friend, nearly lost his beloved car and then was forced to act as Aziraphale and step into hell fire.

But they had survived, and Aziraphale was certain that if Crowley’s friend had died, Adam likely would’ve brought him back along with everything else. All the same as they stumbled out of the Ritz, Crowley more than Aziraphale, the angel flagged down a taxi, thankful the Bentley had been left at Crowley’s so there was no risk of drinking and crashing that way. Aziraphale had already been discorporated once this week; he was in no hurry to do it again.

As he managed to coax his demon into the back of the taxi before giving the man instructions to the bookshop, he asked again, for what felt like the eighteenth time in the past hour since he’d started noticing Crowley’s drinking uptick. “Crowley, dear are you quite all right?”  


“Wrongg, whysssss anything ‘rong?” Crowley questioned, his snake hissing coming out with the drunkenness.

Aziraphale grimaced, hoping the man driving didn’t notice Crowley’s serpent eyes, whatever was going on with his dear friend, he’d prefer he find out about it in privacy. Crowley wasn’t one for feelings, or emotions, it was unlikely he’d appreciate any sort of discussing in the back of a taxi.

So, Aziraphale held his tongue until they pulled up outside his bookshop. Crowley spent a majority of that ride silently staring out the window.

Once they’d arrived, he managed to get Crowley out of the car in a rather undignified fashion involving a lot of flailing limbs and more than a few curse words on his part. He paid the driver, closed the door and half dragged, half supported his best friend as they made their way inside Aziraphale’s recently resurrected shop.

“Stay here, I’m just going to lock up,” the angel instructed as he left his friend standing in the middle of the room, while he moved back over to the doors.

Crowley was a great deal more sober than he cared to admit; then again he doubted any amount of alcohol would make stepping back into this book shop easier. Even as he looked around at all the new and old books, as he took in the undamaged sight of the building, he felt sick. His hands shook as he slowly sank to his knees, hands on the ground, as he tried not to remember the burning of the fire around him, he could feel it licking at his skin, he could hear the crackle of the fire jumping from point to point as it engulfed the entirety of the shop.

Most of all he felt the completely and utterly hollow sensation in the middle of his chest that he’d felt more than a few times the previous day. It was like he was stuck in a nightmare and couldn’t escape. “Crowley,” Zira’s voice broke through the haze of liquor, and he felt two arms gripping him under his arms and lifting him to his unsteady feet.

“Why on earth did you drink so much,” his angel grumbled.

“Feelings,” the demon grumbled his reply as they headed upstairs to Zira’s unused flat. Getting the drunk demon up the stairs proved to be almost as difficult as getting him in and out of the taxi, as the uncoordinated movements of the demon only served to slow them down, nearly sending them flailing backwards twice.

Finally, upstairs, Aziraphale decided it was best to dump the demon on the bed, while he got them some tea and decided how best to convince said demon to sober up. As the angel left the room, Crowley felt the emptiness surround him again. That was the issue, wasn’t it, he thought, he only feels whole and fulfilled when his angel is around and the angel didn’t seem afraid to tell him they weren’t friends.

Sure a part of Crowley had brushed it off, not once, but twice when the angel had denied their friendship, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind when the angel threatened to never speak to him again. Never, in all his life had he felt so scared and so alone as when his angel picked up that flaming sword and for the briefest moment looked as though he might use it. The aching in his chest became like a dagger in his heart. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he forced himself to push those feelings back down, they seemed twice as bad drunk and briefly he considered sobering up, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with all these bloody feelings sober either.

“Oh Crowley, I do wish you’d talk to me,” Aziraphale’s voice startled the demon, Crowley could hear the angel moving about the room. “That is what friends do, supposedly,” the last word seemed whispered to himself, rather than for Crowley’s ears.

Something inside the demon snapped, like a rubber band pulled too tight after decades of being used.

“Is that what we are, friends?” He sat up, trying to ignore the woozy feeling the alcohol caused. “Because forty-eight hours ago, you said you didn’t even like me, refused to leave with me, threatened to bloody never speak to me again! What sort of friend does that angel snapped the demon, he was unsure where all the anger was coming from, but it felt like a boiling pit of rage, and it felt far safer than the other feelings buried beneath them.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak.

“What, Angel! Now that the world isn’t ending you wish you could take it all back?!” growled Crowley.

“Tell me how I can help, please, that’s all I want to do,” Aziraphale reasoned.

“Help? Now you want to help? Where were you when I said let's run away together, or how about when I was facing down two demons with a flask of holy water, hmm? How about when I ran into this burning building, thinking it was hell fire and you were dead! Where were you then?!” Crowley’s throat felt raw with the anger and rage. Just as quickly as it came, all the fight left his body.  “You were dead, I…I thought you were gone and nothing, nobody was going to be able to make this world livable again.”

Aziraphale stood there, surprised, he of course knew Crowley loved him, he could sense love, feel it radiating from the demon. But on some level he’d never realized he was Crowley’s best friend, he’d never realized the love he felt was anything beyond remnants left over from his fall. How had he misjudged this all so badly? Aziraphale tried to imagine what he would’ve felt if he’d found the mess in Crowley’s apartment from last night.  


What would he have felt if he’d gone to see Crowley, rather than Crowley coming back to the bookshop again? It wasn’t hard to do, he could remember the fear and pain of handing over the flask of holy water in the first place, he’d been so sure Crowley would use it on himself. If he’d arrived right after Liqur was killed and Crowley was missing, well…Aziraphale knew exactly what Crowley must’ve felt in that moment, because he would’ve felt the very same thing, an agonizing emptiness that couldn’t ever be filled by anyone else. His other half, gone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered, as they stared at one another, Crowley’s glasses still in place. “I never meant to hurt you, not like that. Not ever.”

Crowley didn’t reply for a long minute, his shoulders sank lower, if that was possible, like a defeated and wild animal afraid to be hurt, positive that hurt was coming.

 “’S fine,” he mumbled, before he started to stride back towards the stairs.  

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale asked, following him.

“I can’t do this right now,” Crowley answered, not even entirely sure what ‘this’ he was referring to.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to feel indignant and angry. “Why, because it means you have to feel something?! You have to take your glasses off for a second and let someone know you care, that you’re good!”

“Fuck you angel!” hissed Crowley as he whirled around, his hands ripping his sunglasses from his eyes and marching right over to the angel. “Is this what you want to see? Just another reminder that I’m a demon and you’re a holier than thou angel. Are you happy now? This is me, Aziraphale, for better or for worse, six thousand years and all you’ve ever told me is I go too fast for you. Well,” a shaky sigh left his mouth as he tossed his sunglasses on the nearby table, “well here I am, angel. Is that what you wanted to see? An unforgivable demon, who’s only real friend is an angel who may very well lose everything if he chooses me?” Crowley closed his yellow eyes for a long minute, and when he opened them they were unmistakably wet. “I think I got the message after all these years, angel. And you’re right, you shouldn’t pick me. Because you’ve got everything to lose, and Satan knows I’ve already lost all of it,” with that, Crowley made his way out the flat door and down the stairs.

Aziraphale grabbed the sunglasses and hurried after his demon, he needed to make this right, he wasn’t sure how, but he had to.   “Wait!” he called, letting a little bit of his angelic voice come through. It thankfully froze the demon in his tracks.

Crowley’s shoulders were taut and tense, he had his head held high, despite clearly not feeling that way, but he wasn’t going to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, that became quickly obvious as Aziraphale stepped into his line of sight and the eyes went to the ground. The angel took a slow calming breath, he knew this demon, this man before him. He knew that he feared being rejected and unloved more than anything, and even more so he feared admitting both of them to anyone. Taking slow steps, as though not trying to frighten an already terrified animal, he walked over to the demon.

In six thousand years, they barely touched and briefly, Aziraphale wondered what that must be like, to not be touched, not be shown what love could feel like on such a small scale. Reaching up slowly, he cupped the demon’s cheek, wiping away the stray tear falling from the yellow serpentine eyes.

“I would chose you every time,” he filled his words with as much inflection, compassion and love as he could. “It would be worth the fall, it would be worth all of it. Love isn’t a sin, Crowley, and that’s what I feel. I do love you.”  

Crowley’s eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head slightly, his whole body shaking at the revelation, “No, you shouldn’t, you can’t.”

Aziraphale’s other hand moved up to Crowley’s other cheek.  “I do and I can. I know you don’t see yourself as forgivable and redeemable, but that’s the best part of God’s love, and an angel’s love. Your opinion of your self isn’t a factor. Crowley, I have watched you prove for six thousand years you are a better angel than you are a demon. A better man than either angel or demon. Any person would be lucky to love such a kind soul. I’m sorry I said you weren’t my friend, and I’m sorry I wasted forty years telling you went too fast. I was scared too. But I’m not anymore. I’m not afraid to love you, because if the worst that happens is I fall, then at least I’d still be with you.”

A sob escaped Crowley’s lips, and a second later, Aziraphale pulled him into a hug, the demon pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I love you, so very much, my dear Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured as he let his hand hold the back of Crowley’s head, the other rubbing his shoulders where his wings would be.

“How long?” Crowley asked several minutes later once he’d calmed some, his face was still leaning against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

 “Since 1941, when I realized I was actually looking forward to your visits and didn't mind you coming over.”

“I’ve loved you since the beginning,” whispered Crowley.

Aziraphale smiled. “I know.”

“May I kiss you, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s smile grew wider as he met the yellow eyes. “I really wish you would.”

A second later their lips met, and it was utter perfection to Crowley, to feel filled to the brim with all that love and tenderness he hadn’t felt since the day he’d fallen.

The End


End file.
